


What Happens in Vegas

by Deifire



Category: NASCAR RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deifire/pseuds/Deifire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The drinking of too much Crown Royal leads Tony Stewart to an interesting encounter with the Busch brothers. Tony POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens in Vegas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Claireliz81](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Claireliz81).



> Written for Claireliz81 in the RidinxDirty Secret Santa exchange. Happy Holidays!
> 
> Takes place the night after the 2010 After the Lap Fan Q&A (the event where Clint Bowyer revealed the color of Kyle Busch's underwear).
> 
> This story is entirely a work of fiction, and to the author's knowledge, is not based on any actual events.

This is all Matt Kenseth’s fault.

Not that Matt was around when things started getting interesting, of course.

It’s just that if he hadn’t challenged me to find a better mixer for Crown Royal than good, old-fashioned Coca-Cola--said better mixer, by the way, doesn’t exist--I might not have had quite so much to drink tonight.

And without those last three or four drinks, I might not have found myself doing something quite as dumb as describing certain sexual fantasies of mine to the fucking Busch brothers in the middle of the hotel bar.

I’m in the process of detailing a scenario that involved me and two sisters--and I will swear to my dying day that I specifically specify sisters, as in two hot _women_ who happened to share the same gene pool, because my thoughts aren't going any other direction--when Kyle yawns.

“Booor-ring,” he says.

I stop and glare at the little punk. “What do you mean, boring?”

“I mean,” says Kyle, jumping off his barstool and stumbling a little. It’s probably fair to mention that he and his brother have consumed more than their fair share of drinks themselves at this point in the evening. “That your fantasies are seriously tame.”

Over Kyle’s shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Kurt nodding.

“I see,” I say. “Whereas, I suppose, yours are as shocking and worth talking about as the color of your bright green underwear.”

“You,” says Kyle, with a sudden air of solemnity, “Could seriously not handle what I fantasize about.”

“Or me,” says Kurt, suddenly feeling the need to contribute to this conversation.

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”

That’s when Kyle Busch kisses me.

And damn, if that boy doesn’t have talents that go well beyond his skill on the track. The kiss is deep and slow and I’m just starting to forget where I am and who exactly I’m sucking face with, and really get into it when he finally breaks it off.

Which is when I feel hands spinning me around, and then suddenly it’s _Kurt_ kissing me.

Talent, it seems, runs in this family.

He, too, finally breaks off, and I stand there in a daze for about a millisecond before my brain catches up and I realize what’s now happening in front of me.

Yep. The Busch brothers are making out. With each other. And the show is seriously turning me on.

I suddenly realize that we’re in the middle of a hotel bar in Vegas, and that at any second one of about a million NASCAR fans, or members of the media, or a seriously big-mouthed Clint Bowyer is fully capable of wandering in and getting an eyeful.

“Hey guys,” I say.

They stop and look at me.

“Maybe we should continue this in private?”

***

Something like thirty seconds later, we’re in my hotel room, and both boys are stripped down to their underwear.

Kyle’s boxers _are_ a rather astonishing shade of green.

They kind of pale in comparison to his brother’s bright gold banana hammock, though.

In my plain black silk boxers, I feel distinctly underdressed.

Kyle’s kind of posing in front of me, grinning.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” I ask.

In response, he smirks and glances down at my crotch. Oh, yeah. I guess I’m giving Kyle the satisfaction of knowing his little show has captured the full attention of at least _one_ part of me. Dammit.

“Well?” I say, wondering where exactly this is going to go next.

I’m expecting a smart-ass remark from Kyle, but that’s not what happens. Instead, he’s suddenly on his knees in front of me, my boxers are down around my ankles, and Kyle’s normally smart mouth is full of my cock.

Okay, I admit it. I’m impressed.

Kissing and mouthing off at officials are obviously not the only uses for Kyle’s tongue.

I grab his hair with one hand as he continues to suck me off. One of his hands begins to gentle fondle my balls. He varies his rhythm from slow to fast and hard.

I’m close to climax, when a voice interrupts.

“Okay, little brother. Nobody said you get to have all the fun.”

Shit. I’d forgotten we had an audience.

Kurt’s completely naked now, as he pushes Kyle away.

I expect he’s about to take his own turn on his knees, but instead he guides me towards the bed. I have just enough time to register the slightly pouty expression on the younger Busch’s face as the older gently prods me into position on all fours, and starts planting kisses all the way down my back as he maneuvers himself behind me.

I notice Kurt’s produced a bottle a lube from somewhere.

Did they have this planned the whole time, I wonder, or is Kurt Busch the sexual equivalent of the Boy Scouts, and always prepared?

I let this thought distract me long enough for Kurt to slowly slide one, two, then three fingers inside me, pumping them in and out in a rhythm that finally causes me to gasp before he decides I’m sufficiently prepared, and withdraws his hand. Suddenly, it’s his cock inside me.

I gasp harder. This isn’t the first time I’ve been fucked in the ass, of course. I’ve dated girls who were into anything and everything at one time or another. But this is the first time with someone with this particular piece of natural equipment.

It’s nice. I’m just staring to relax into it when Kyle, or rather Kyle’s cock, is suddenly in front of my face. I take him in my mouth.

It’s a little awkward at first, blowing Kyle while being fucked by Kurt. I concentrate on trying not to hurt the little Shrub, until my teeth accidentally graze his flesh a bit, and he moans in a way that makes me realize that what I really need to do here is make sure that I only hurt this one in ways that hurt good.

We finally find our rhythm, Kurt fucking me while I suck off Kyle until finally Kyle comes with a deep moan. I swallow, as Kyle groans in appreciation, pushes himself away, and leans back against the headboard, watching.

I suddenly realize how close I am to coming myself just as Kurt reaches around to take my cock in his hand and stroke it and with long, hard strokes, and that’s it. I’m gone.

Kurt comes himself not a second later, and collapses against my back, planting one final kiss on my shoulder.

This is, without a doubt, the strangest night I have ever had in Vegas.

***

I’m still not able to do much but lie there, stretched out in bed with a big, goofy grin on my face by the time Kurt and Kyle finish cleaning up and getting themselves back into all their clothes.

I suddenly realize just how badly it could go if all this gets out, and get ready to assume my most threatening look and voice for the inevitable “If you ever tell anyone…” conversation, when Kurt catches my expression and laughs.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

Kyle gives me another cocky grin. “Well, I guess I was wrong. You _could_ handle what I've been fantasizing about, after all.”

I can’t resist. I yawn. “I don’t know,” I say. “That was pretty tame. Where were the whips? The chains? The handcuffs?”

Which is when Kurt pulls a pair of handcuffs out of his jacket pocket. My eyes go wide.

“Next time,” he says with a grin.

I can hear the brothers laughing as the door closes behind them.

I finally drift off to sleep with two thoughts in my head.

One, I still seriously need to kill Kenseth for making me drink all that Crown Royal.

Two, I can’t wait to come back to Vegas.


End file.
